Hunter's Fire
by lyredenfers
Summary: A fic about a very special oak tree! Oh, right. Jonathan and Delia happen to be there too.


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Hunter's Fire**

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There's a tree in the corner of one of the palace gardens; an old oak tree with branches stretched upwards to the sky, like a small child begging its father, the sun, to be lifted and carried away. It was planted a long time ago, in memory of the men lost in the battle for unification under the Conté throne, and its age is evident in both strength and size. Jonathan's brought Delia here today, like the other days that have come before. 

Delia doesn't consider herself fool enough to think that she's the only girl to have come here with the Prince. She watches, head turned partly to one side, as Jonathan sits on the grass with an arm across his knee before taking a seat herself. She sits, in one sweeping gesture of silk and linen, on the wooden bench a few steps away.

It doesn't matter if there have been others before, thinks Delia with unfailing faith, he won't be thinking of any of them today.

nn

"My father brought me here when I was young," says Jonathan, his eyes following Delia's hand from where it tucks a stray curl behind her ear and moves down, past her small shoulders and pale, exposed neck to the tips of her chestnut hair, where it curls between her fingers.

She's watching him attentively, as if he's a lesson to be learned - though not any subject taught in his knight training, thinks Jonathan wryly. Here he's struck by the image of a convent classroom full of young, impressionable ladies, alert and hanging off the every word of their lessons Masters; Jonathan flushes, shifting his gaze down to the grass. It's greener than grass found beyond the palace walls; at least anywhere that Jonathan's ever seen. It's more vibrant, and with an uncanny resemblance to the colour of Delia's eyes.

"He told me not to forget the men that died in pursuit of their dream," begins Jonathan, staring at his hand, surrounded by the soft, sun-soaked grass. "That I have a duty to those men, and to the ideals for which they died."

_And so you should_, is on the tip of Delia's tongue, but she knows that this is what Jonathan expects to hear and that he is looking for confirmation of what has been preached to him since he's been in the cradle.

After a pause, Delia leans forwards and gives Jonathan what he wants to hear, instead of what he feels he ought to want to hear. "And what of your subjects today?" asks Delia. "And in the future, if they should have differing ideals for changing needs, what then?"

Jonathan eyes snap to Delia's face and she bites down on her lower lip. "Forgive me; it isn't my place to say such -"

"No, by all means speak," says Jonathan hurriedly, and his next words are halting, unsure. "Sometimes I wonder about the system to which we cling so desperately. The world around us is changing, I'm sure of that -"

"But...?" prompts Delia.

Jonathan smiles ruefully and extends a hand to Delia, who allows herself to be tugged onto her prince's overcoat on the ground by his side, underneath the old oak tree.

"Tell me, Lady," says Jonathan in a lofty tone. "As a subject of today's world - and a citizen of the future as well - what is it that _you_ want?"

Delia laughs at Jonathan's antics, sobering quickly when he takes her hands in his and stares inquiringly.

"I want," starts Delia quietly, before looking Jonathan full on. "I want not to be married to a man three times my age, a nameless country Lord in an exchange of land deeds, who cares nothing for me except my ability to bear him sons and pluck geese."

"Oh?" smiles Jonathan. One of his hands is under Delia's chin, gentle and guiding her forwards to receive his kiss.

"Delia," says Jonathan, and Delia mocks him for it later when she is alone, and in the privacy of her own room. "You're obviously meant for so much more."

nn

"I bet you used to climb this tree when you were small." Delia smiles up at Jonathan, her head is resting on his thigh. One of Jonathan's hands is in her hair, the other moving across the fabric of her dress, over her stomach.

"I did," agrees Jonathan. "One time I got stuck at the top, and they had to send the Palace Guard to fetch me down again."

"They didn't," laughs Delia.

"They did, actually. And then they forbade me from climbing trees. So," continues Jonathan, "I climbed it once a month until I turned fifteen, while no one was looking."

"You rebel," says Delia with mock horror. "Why did you stop?"

Jonathan shrugs. "I don't know."

"You should climb it."

"What, now?" asks Jonathan, amused.

"Yes," smirks Delia. And when he doesn't move, "I dare you, Jonathan."

But when Jonathan starts to rise, when Delia's satisfied that he's taken her bait, she holds onto his hand, making him stay until he finally pulls away.

"I can't back down from a dare," explains Jonathan with exaggeration, picking a red rose from a flowerbed and idly smelling the flower.

"What if you get stuck?" Delia teases, catching the flower that Jonathan tosses to her.

"You'll have to come up and get me then," calls Jonathan, from his perch on the lowest branch. "We can't have the Palace Guard involved again. I'm afraid it would be an embarrassment to my royal parents now that I'm no longer eight."

"I can't climb in a dress," argues Delia.

When Jonathan raises an eyebrow suggestively (she knows he does, even though she can barely see him now) Delia rolls her eyes.

"Jonathan," she shouts, drawing out his name. "Jon, come back down? Please?"

He does, of course, like she knew he would; although not until he's been high enough to see over the palace walls.

"What's it like out there?" asks Delia, as he settles back down beside her, and she brushes a twig from his hair.

"Mmm, it's okay," says Jonathan, tucking his arm around Delia and leaning his head against the tree trunk. "Big. But why would I want to be out there, when you're in here?"

What Delia really wants right then – though she doesn't ever admit it to anyone, not even in her own mind - is to let herself want this, here, lying in the sun with him.

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_Fenella '07_  



End file.
